


Stranger's Home

by Sansael



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dís is way too serious, F/F, Family, Fix-It, Trans Female Character, Víli needs a good healer but maybe in next story, also needs a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansael/pseuds/Sansael
Summary: A weight Dís didn’t know was carrying fell from her shoulders, and she sagged in relief. After four years of separation she was finally with her sons.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HSavinien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/gifts).



She was a stranger in a very strange land. That’s how Dís felt upon entering halls of Erebor for what felt like the first time in her life. She was too young to really remember her homeland when Smaug attacked, and now she was too old to feel the promised relief of homecoming. Funny, Dís thought, as as long as she remembered it was Thorin who felt like a stranger in a very strange land. How have tables turned.

“Dís”, Víli spoke, taking her hand and entwining their finger together. Dís lightly squeezed their hands together, mindful as ever of the other dwarf’s still healing bones. Then she proceeded to pull their clasped hands and kissed knuckles of Víli’s hand.

“We will be safe here and soon you will be back to jewelry crafting again, my love,” the dwarven princess promised, but her spouse just laughed.

“Ever the optimist,” she fondly spoke. “But I know that this hand will never be as good as it was before.”

“You don’t know that,” Dís insisted, and probably would’ve launched into one of her rants again, but thankfully havoc of caravan halting to a stop distracted her. The numerous carts and hundreds of dwarves inevitably created chaos and Dís, as the head of the expedition, had to oversee everyone.

This had was the last of the missives from Blue Mountains. Some had decided to stay in the end, but Dís and Víli had stayed as long as they could, organizing each caravan and watching them depart. There will be no more migrating dwarves to Erebor, at least not in such large quantities. Those who will have decided they after all don’t want to stay in Ered Luin will have to brave the journey across the Middle Earth on their own, without safety of the big group.

But alas, even the large group didn’t guarantee safety, Dís thought bitterly, her mind back to the dozen injured dwarves that were with them. She squeezed Víli’s hand one last time, and then turned to the dwarf who patiently waited for her attention.

“Welcome,” Balin spoke formally, eyes twinkling, “to the newly rebuilt Kingdom of Erebor and may you find home here.”

As if, Dís thought but smiled broadly at the elder dwarf: “Do I not warrant a greeting from His Majesty? I thought that after four years of separation he’d be glad to see me.”

“Oh hush, love,” Víli interjected, “he secretly hoped you would stay in Ered Luin, so he’d never have to deal with your ugly mug again.”

“The ugly mug you married,” Dís laughed back, but then turned her expectant stare at Balin. White haired dwarf wasn’t even trying to hide his grin and Dís missed this easiness between them, the companionship and understanding that came from running the settlements in Blue Mountains together for so long.

“He is busy overseeing the preparation of homes for your caravan,” Balin explained. “Apparently there was a mishap with the number of living quarters. We didn’t expect these much dwarves to arrive with you.”

“Curious. We didn’t expect these much dwarves to stay behind,” she countered and Balin gave her a half-hearted smile but didn’t reply. Dís sighed. “Anyhow, I just hope everyone will have a home in Erebor. After all, this is why my brother and sons had endeavored on this reckless quest, have they not?”

“Indeed. I assure you, everyone will have a home, and we have been working hard on preventing the formation of social casts. There will be no dust towns this time around.”

Ah yes. Dust towns. Dís only knew of them from tales of older dwarves, those who had been either the part of it when Erebor stood, or was too reluctant to bring up the issue to Thror. Before Thorin had left Ered Luin, Dís had made him swear to her that should he succeed, he wouldn’t allow any more dust towns to arise. Erebor wouldn’t be a place of despair for those less fortunate anymore. It was reassuring to know Thorin has upheld his promise.

“Oh stop being so stoic,” the elder dwarf grumbled, and Dís could no longer contain her happiness to see him. She threw her arms around him and gave him a hearty embrace.

“I missed you,” she spoke into his white hair.

“I did too,” a warm hand glided down her braided hair. Then Balin pulled from her and gave Víli equally as hearty embrace. Vili laughed, her laughter carrying down the busy hall.

“Where are my wayward sons? Helping their uncle in favour of meeting their mothers?” Her tone was light, but Dís knew how worried Víli was. After all, it had been her who was most unwilling to let Fíli and Kíli go, while Dís advocated their right to follow Thorin.

As if on cue of their mother’s worry, a shout rang across the hall, making several dwarves startle and grumble.

“They have arrived!”

A weight Dís didn’t know was carrying fell from her shoulders, and she sagged in relief. After receiving the raven that Erebor was retaken and everyone involved survived, the dwarven princess didn’t allow herself dwell much on her sons’ fate. It had been enough to know they were alive. But as one of two remaining governors of Blue Mountains she didn’t have much time for wishful thinking. It was Víli who would speak quietly in their bed of how much she missed their sons and how much she wanted them to be hale and fed and warm.

Fíli and Kíli made their way through the hall and stopped in front of their mothers. A beat later and Kíli threw himself into Víli’s arms, and Dís found herself with and armful of Fíli. His embrace was strong and braids neat. He wore sturdy clothes and it seemed that he grew since the last time Dís had held her eldest son. She leaned back from his embrace only to fiercely press their foreheads together.

“You are finally here,” her boy whispered, his eyes shut tight. “I missed you so much. Kíli missed you so much. We all missed you.”

“I know. I did too.”

Beside them Kíli and Víli were exchanging similar reassurances, just happy to finally be reunited. But then Kíli clasped his mother’s hand and exclaimed: “What happened to your hand?!”

And thus the story of the orc attack a month into their journey was told. Víli had had it easy, as it was only her hand that was injured, while several of other dwarves were injured bad enough to have to be carted the rest of the hard journey. Yet, Víli’s fine nibble fingers now had a fine tremor in them, and Dís feared her wife would never be able to smith jewelry again.

Both Kíli and Fíli were upset with the story, yet immediately after both of them headed into the mass of dwarves, intending to personally oversee that the rest of those who still couldn’t move on their own were carted to the healer’s wing.

“No fear, Mothers,” Fíli told them, “you will have home here, and home means help to those in need.”

And maybe now Dís feels like a stranger in her own home, but she knows that with her family she will build a new home here.

**Author's Note:**

> It was a pleasure to write this story. I hope you like it, HSavinien.


End file.
